


Born To Run

by sad_eyed_lady_of_the_low_lands



Category: Killjoys (TV)
Genre: Angst, D'av whump, Dyslexia, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I recognise you can't slam doors on a space ship but I'm ignoring that, Sparring as Flirting, Technobabble, Turin's a dickhead, brief discussions of child abuse, canon compliant aside from like one thing, canon typical discussions of abuse, now with better grammar because my dyslexic arse finally got this proof read, sort of an AU but sort of canon compliant, timeline is eeehhhhh, you may or may not notice that some stuff that used to be in c.1 is now in c.2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 09:33:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12230199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sad_eyed_lady_of_the_low_lands/pseuds/sad_eyed_lady_of_the_low_lands
Summary: “Do you know how many mistakes your “report” contains?” Dutch is too busy rolling her eyes at Turin’s use of air quotes to reply.D’av, on the other hand, laughs, “seriously? You rang us up because my report had typos? Man, must be a slow day at the office!” D’av’s voice is light, superficially, but there’s an undertone there, like he’s gearing up for a fight.“206,” Turin says, “I counted.”“Oh, that’s just sad,” D’av says. Johnny snorts into his coffee.“Shut up!” Turin yells, “This. Is. Not. A. Joke! Now I get that brains are not really your department here, but if you’re really too stupid to write a coherent report, well. Maybe the RAC made a mistake with you!”There’s a beat before she realises that D’av’s not replying, he’s staring, tight lipped at the screen, his face carefully blank.Have you ever sat down and thought to yourself "what if D'avin Jaqobis was dyslexic?"No? Well, I did, and this is the resulting fic.





	1. Chapter 1

“We could… Play a board-game?” Johnny suggests to the stony silence around the table. 

“No!” Comes Dutch and D’av’s simultaneous response.

They’re sitting in Lucy’s kitchen, scattered haphazardly around the table. Johnny’s at the head of the table, with Dutch on his left and D’av on the right. Dutch is slumped back in her chair, her feet planted on the table. D’av, on the other hand is curled over the table, resting his face against his hands.

The ship’s docked at Westhole, which, along with half of Westerly, is currently engulfed in a black rainstorm.

They’d planned for it, they really had. Two whole hours before the storm was due to hit they’d been on the bridge waiting for clearance to leave; so of course this was the moment the storm sirens had sounded. An hour, a whole lot of cussing and futile attempts to bargain with the docking staff later and they’ve finally been forced to accept that they are going nowhere fast.

“Well…” Johnny says, “have either of you got a better idea?”

“Day drinking?” Dutch says.

“Target practice?” D’av suggests, dully. 

“Do you want to finish this warrant with a hangover?” Johnny asks, “because I don’t want to finish this warrant with a hangover; and D’avin, if you use _anything_ on this ship for target practice I will personally shove you out an airlock!”

“Well that’s aggressive.” 

“I don’t know, a hangover’s starting to seem worth it,” Dutch says. 

“Do we even _own_ board-games?” D’av asks, although he doesn’t sound like he particularly cares about the answer. 

“Yes,” Johnny says, a little irately. 

“ _Why?”_ D’av says, staring at Johnny with a mix of amusement and bewilderment. 

“They were mixed in with the shit I grabbed when I left dad’s” Johnny shrugs. 

“What,” D’av says, “like from when we were kids?”

“Well, yeah.” Johnny shrugs again. 

“Seriously!?” D’av shifts back in his chair, throwing his hands out in exasperation.

“What?” Johnny exclaims, his voice raising to match D’av’s. 

“You kept stuff from home? When were you gonna tell me?” D’av’s voice, and shoulders, drop. He frowns slightly, at Johnny, his eyebrows knitting together.

“I didn’t… Think you’d be interested,” Johnny says, apologetically. “I can dig it out for you, if you want?”

D’av nods and Johnny moves towards the kitchen door. “Oh-“ He stops just short of the doorway.

“What?” 

“There’s not… A whole lot of your stuff. I grabbed what I could but, honestly D’av, dad chucked most of it after you left.”

“Oh.” D’av says, “it’s okay, I figured he would.” He shrugs, lightly, clearly trying to pretend he doesn’t care. 

 

Everything Johnny saved fits into two boxes. The first is mostly full of clothes, and a bunch of books about engineering, things Johnny always meant to throw away but could never quite bring himself to. 

Amongst a bundle of worn out pants and too small shirts, D’av pulls his old Nova Cadets jacket out of it.

“Holy shit!” He spreads it over the table and runs his hands over the front. There’s a slightly dazed expression on his face, the sound of Dutch laughing snaps him out of it. 

“What!” D’av says, in mock anger. 

“I’m sorry!” Dutch pulls herself together somewhat, “I’m just picturing you, as a kid in the uniform!” She breaks off laughing again, this time Johnny joins in. 

“He took it so seriously!” Johnny laughs.

“I bet he had the hair!” 

“He did!”

They both break off laughing again.

“Alright, alright! Enough!” D’av folds the jacket haphazardly and shoves it back into the box. 

“Aw D’avin,” Dutch hops onto the table in front of him, “don’t sulk!”

“I hate you both,” he informs her. 

 

The contents of the second box are more eclectic. There’s more books, the aforementioned board-games, a small collection of toys, a frankly pathetic collection of photo’s, and a small collection of school books. They find D’av’s ancient chess set too. The thing was an antique when he got it and half of the pieces have been replaced with random junk; beer bottle lids; “pretty” stones; an empty lipstick tube. D’av had loved the damn thing anyway. Dutch grabs a handful of the photo’s and starts flipping through them. She’s seen them before, but not since meeting D’av. Pretty quickly the chess set’s forgotten and the other two join her in pawing over the pictures. 

They spend a long time on the photo’s, long enough that Dutch gets up, makes herself a coffee and starts idly rummaging through the boxes again.

“What’s that?” D’av asks, and Johnny shifts his attention back to Dutch. She’s flipping through an outdated pad, it takes Johnny a second to place it as one of their old exercise books. 

Dutch holds the pad up so D’av can see, “why’d you keep _that?”_ he says, screwing his nose up. 

Johnny shrugs, “whose is it?”

“D’av’s.”

“Great,” D’av mutters, with far more venom than a dusty old school book really deserves. 

“What?” Johnny squints at him.

“Nothing,” D’av says, flatly, “you can chuck any of my old school shit, I don’t want it.”

“Ooooookay?” Johnny eyes D’av curiously, which his brother pointedly ignores. 

“It must’ve been nice, going to school together,” Dutch remarks, softly. 

“It was alright,” Johnny shrugs. 

“We didn’t see a whole a lot of each other,” D’av says, then by way of explanation adds, “different year groups.”

Johnny laughs, “and you skived so much it wouldn’t’ve matter _what_ year I was in!”

“Whatever,” D’av rolls his eyes, “I graduated, didn’t I?”

“That is _so_ not the point!” 

Ignoring him, D’av turns to Dutch, who’s still flipping through the notebook, and says, “Really? My old homework can’t be that interesting.”

“You’d be surprised,” she says, and then she starts to laugh again. “Awww! Little D’av mixed his letters up too!”

“What?” D’av plucks the tab out of her hands, “I don’t do that.”

“Yeah you do,” Johnny says at same time as Dutch says, “You really do…”

“There’s nothing even wrong with this!” D’av pouts. 

Johnny leans over so he can read over D’av’s shoulder. It doesn’t take him long to find what Dutch was talking about. “Really, D’av?” Johnny raises his eyebrows at his brother, who glares back at him. 

“Boubtful” Johnny laughs, gesturing to the offending word. D’av squints at it for a moment, before scowling. 

“Whatever,” he snaps and it very abruptly dawns on Johnny that D’avin’s no longer enjoying this trip down memory lane. 

Luckily for Johnny his partner isn’t quite so oblivious, “bet you fifty joy I can kick both your arses!” She waves the chess set jauntily in the air. 

“Oh!” D’av exclaims, happily accepting the change of subject, “you are so on. Well, aside from the ‘beating Johnny’ thing, I am not putting money on Johnny’s chess skills.”

 

 

 

“It’s. Not. _Working._ ” D’avin’s growl in Johnny’s ear actually makes him jump a little. He’s lying on his back, waist deep in the guts of the station’s security wiring. They’re midway through a warrant. The objective’s simple, track and retrieve the two subjects. Dutch is currently _persuading_ target no. 1 to accompany her back to the ship while D’av breaks into the other’s room where, if all goes to plan, he’ll find and bag the guy. 

“ _What’s_ not working?” Johnny asks, yanking a wire out of a circuit board. 

“The codes!” D’av snaps. In the background Johnny can hear the familiar beeping of a keypad, followed by the equally familiar “access denied” buzz. 

They do, of course have jurisdiction here. Legally speaking, there’s nothing stopping D’av from marching up to the nearest security officer and demanding they open the door for him. Of course, in reality it couldn’t possibly be that easy. The station’s well known through the J for being a favoured hide-out for criminals. The owners won’t do anything outright illegal, but they sure as hells won’t ask too many questions about their visitors, and if any killjoy shows up flashing a warrant they’ll find their target promptly and _mysteriously_ tipped off. 

Johnny sighs as he strips the plastic off a wire, “Try it again.” 

“I _did!_ ” D’av half shouts down the com link. 

“Well try it _again_ ,” Johnny snaps, reattaching the wire, “It’s a fifteen digit code, which I _personally_ retrieved from their server, you probably just typed it wrong!”

“Five times?” He demands, “in a _row?_ ”

“Well, if anyone could,” Johnny mutters, he doesn’t entirely mean to say it out loud but he’s paying more attention to keeping D’av off the security system than what’s coming out of his mouth. 

His concentration’s broken by a metallic clang, followed by a stream of cussing which, he’s pretty sure is the sound of D’av punching whatever wall he’s nearest too. 

“D’av what the hells!” Johnny yelps.

“Fuck you!”

“Boys!” They both fall silent at Dutch’s chiding. 

“Oh for the love of-“ Johnny tugs his phone out of his pocket and flips through until he finds the codes, “I’ll read, you type. If it doesn’t work-“

“ _When_ it doesn’t work.” D’av butts in, his voice tight and angry. 

“D’avin,” Dutch’s voice says she’s 100% done with them. 

“If it doesn’t work I’ll get you another way in,” Johnny says. He promptly starts reading, before D’avin has a chance to start bitching again. 

“Hey, hey! Back up! Jesus,” D’av snaps.

With a sigh, Johnny starts again. There’s a moment of silence after he finishes before the computers “access granted” bleep plays over his comm link. 

“Don’t say it,” D’av growls, but under the anger it sounds like a plea. 

Johnny keeps quiet, mostly he’s just glad he doesn’t have to hack the fucking doors as well. It nags at him though, just how frustrated D’av is by the whole thing. It’s not the first time something like this has happened, either.

 

 

Dutch is half way through her morning coffee when the intercom in the kitchen bursts into life. 

“Killjoys!” Turin’s scowling face appears on the screen opposite the kitchen table. 

There’s a clatter from behind her as D’av starts, dropping the spatula he’s holding, “ _shit!_ A little warning!”

Johnny groans softly into his coffee. 

“Turin,” Dutch says, measuredly, “to what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Why don’t you ask tall _dumb_ and handsome over there,” Turin sneers. 

“ _Aw_ he thinks I’m handsome!” D’av sneers back. 

“This isn’t a _joke_ Jaqobis!” Turin shouts. 

Both Dutch and Johnny turn to D’avin, waiting for an explanation. D’av just shrugs, a bemused expression on his face. 

“Don’t look at me, I haven’t got a clue,” he says, and then, gesturing to the frying pan he’s holding, “You guys want eggs?”

They’re interrupted by a loud banging and Turin slams his hand down on his desk. D’av jumps again, this time he nearly drops the pan. 

“Are you clowns listening to me!” 

Dutch grits her teeth, Turin’s always annoying, but today he’s _especially_ frustrating, “Will you get to the point?”

Beside her D’av slides a serving dish full of scrambled eggs and a small pile of toast onto the table, which Johnny obligingly grabs and starts shovelling onto his plate. 

“Your mission reports.” 

Dutch frowns, “I sent you them last night!”

“Mmm,” Turin nods, “you did.”

“Then what,” Dutch cries, “is the problem!”

“D’avin,” Turin says. Dutch isn’t sure if that’s an answer to her question or not. 

“What?” D’av says around a mouthful of toast. 

“Do you know how many mistakes your “report” contains?” Dutch is too busy rolling her eyes at Turin’s use of air quotes to reply. 

D’av, on the other hand, laughs, “ _Seriously?_ You rang us up because my report had typos? Man, must be a slow day at the office!” D’av’s voice is light, superficially, but there’s an undertone there, like he’s gearing up for a fight. 

“206,” Turin says, “I counted.”

“Oh, that’s just sad,” D’av says. Johnny snorts into his coffee. 

“Shut up!” Turin yells, “Now I _get_ that _brains_ are not really your department here, but if you’re really too stupid to write a coherent report, well. Maybe the RAC made a mistake with you!”

There’s a beat before she realises that D’av’s not replying, he’s staring, tight lipped at the screen, his face carefully blank. Johnny comes to his defence before Dutch can. 

“Oh come on, you try writing a mission report on three hours sleep! Give us a break!”

“Yeah,” Turin says, smugly, “see that _would_ be a reasonable assumption, wouldn’t it? So reasonable, in fact, that that’s the assumption I _did_ make, but it’s _every_ goddam report. So now we’ve got to have this conversation because the only conclusion I can come to, is that you,” he stabs a finger in D’av’s direction, “just don’t give a shit!”

“This is _bullshit_ ,” D’av spits, he stands quickly enough that he nearly knocks his chair over and storms out of the kitchen, the door slamming behind him. 

“Well,” Turin says, after a moment, “that was dramatic.”

“Oh, piss off,” Dutch snaps, moving to follow D’av. 

“Hey, don’t walk away from me!”

Dutch rounds on him, he cuts her off before she can get going. 

“I want that report re-written and on my desk by the end of the day.”

“ _Wonderful,_ ” Dutch glares at him, “why are you telling me that? It’s not _my_ report you have an issue with.”

“No,” Turin shrugs, “but he’s _your_ team, so I’m making it your problem. It’s not done properly this time then that’s on you!” With that the transmission cuts. 

“ _Asshole!_ ” Johnny hisses, after all these years he’s still surprised by Turin’s ability to be a dick.

“We should probably go find D’av,” he says, after a minute. 

“Let me talk to him,” Dutch says. 

“Dutch-“

“No, Johnny, let me talk to him.” 

Johnny doesn’t like it, he makes no attempt to hide that, but he nods anyway. “Go easy on him?”

Dutch sighs, “Johnny, you know how important our reports are, we could all lose our licences. If there’s discrepancies, D’av _has_ to take them seriously.”

“I know, Dutch, believe me, but D’av knows it too. I don’t think he’d do something that could screw us on purpose.” Johnny’s voice is soft and he blinks at her with his big, sympathetic eyes. 

Dutch sighs she can feel Johnny’s concern eating away at her irritation. 

“Neither do I, Johnny.”

 

 

She finds D’avin exactly where she expects to; beating the shit out of a punching bag strung from the cargo bay ceiling. 

“I don’t wanna hear it, Dutch,” D’av says, each word accompanied by a punch. 

“You don’t even know what I’m here to say,” Dutch leans easily against a nearby crate. 

“I can make a pretty good guess,” D’av says, he moves back from the punching bag and aims a roundhouse kick at it. His footings all wrong, before she can call out a warning D’av’s on his arse. 

“Shit!” D’av cusses, and then he slams his fist into the floor. 

Dutch moves around so she’s standing in front of him. He’s holding his now rapidly bruising hand against his chest and glaring up at Dutch with an expression like he’s either going to punch something or cry. 

Dutch considers him for a moment. 

“Alright, get up. Come on,” she shifts her footing, assuming a fighting stance, “let’s go.”

Somewhat reluctantly D’av clambers to his feet. Dutch doesn’t wait for him, she springs forward as soon as he’s upright and aims a punch at his head. 

D’av leaps backwards, he’s off balance but he still manages to dodge the blow. Dutch uses the time it takes him to regain his footing to get close to him immediately throwing another punch. This time D’av ducks, using the movement to get under her defences and take a swing at her ribs. She moves quickly enough to miss the full force of it but she still feels it. 

Dutch laughs as she squares back up with him. “Come on Jaqobis, that the best you got?”

“Let’s find out,” D’av lunges at her. He’s starting to relax into it now, she can see his shoulders loosening and there’s a playful glint in his eyes. 

Dutch weaves sideways and gets herself behind him, where she leans back and plants her foot in the small of his back. Once again D’av lands on his arse, this time Dutch is glad to see he’s laughing. 

Taking advantage of the opportunity she aims a kick at his temple. D’av grabs her by the ankle and tugs. She probably could’ve caught herself, but instead she lets herself topple over, landing in a heap on top of him. For a moment the two of them lie there, both trying to catch their breath. After a moment Dutch pulls herself up until she’s straddling his chest. 

“Hi?” D’av laughs. 

“Hi,” Dutch says, softly, and then jabbing him lightly in the chest, “Oi! Eye’s on the face, soldier.” 

“You’re the one sitting on _me_ ,” D’av points out, Dutch doesn’t, however miss the blush creeping up his neck. 

“So,” Dutch says, “you ready to play grown-up and talk about it?”

“Um…” D’av says, “can I get up first?”

“…Right,” Dutch rolls off him and the two of them settle on the floor, backs against a crate their shoulders touching. 

“…So?” Dutch prompts. 

“Look,” He sighs, “tell me when Turin wants the report re-done by and I’ll do it. What else is there to talk about?”

“How about why we’re in this position to start with? I don’t want to lecture you, D’av. You should know how important this is.”

“I do!” D’av snaps. 

“Then why aren’t you taking them seriously?”

She feels D’av tense beside her, his shoulders hunching over. 

“D’av?” She prompts. Absently he runs his hand over the cargo-bay floor. 

“Sorry,” D’av mumbles, his expressions blank. Everything about his body language says he’s trying to fold in on himself, making himself small, shutting down. 

“I don’t want you to be sorry, D’av, I want you to do better.” Apparently this is the wrong thing to say. 

“Well I can’t!” D’av yells. He looks more angry than Dutch can remember seeing him for a long time. She’s pretty sure he’s not angry at _her_. “Okay! I can’t because I’m a fucking idiot! Is that what you want to hear?!”

“No, D’avin, not really,” she leans over, trying to catch D’av’s eyes but he stares pointedly at the floor. She tries a different approach, keeping her voice soft she nudges him gently,“No offence, D’av, but don’t you think you’re overreacting… Just a little bit?”

“No!” D’av pouts, “… Maybe. Shut up!”

“What’s this really about, D’av?” She prods him lightly in the ribs again. 

“Nothing,” D’av says, rather unconvincingly. 

Dutch just looks at him and after a second he sighs. 

“I guess that classic high school ‘gettin’ yelled at for fucking up your homework feeling’ wasn’t something I wanted to relive, like… ever.” 

“Mmm,” Dutch says, “can’t say that’s a familiar experience.”

D’av rubs the back of his neck and chuckles, “I guess not.”

“Did that happen a lot?” She asks. 

D’av shrugs, his expression staying carefully neutral. “I was a shitty student.”

“Kinda sounds like you had shitty teachers…”

“Ahhhh, they tried.”

“What, by publicly yelling at you?”

“Dutch,” he says, softly. What he means is please don’t.

So instead she says, “you know, D’av, I don’t give a shit how well you can spell. Any idiot can spell-“ D’av snorts and Dutch scowls at him, “you know what I mean! I could pull any arsehole off the street and get them to write me a report-”

“Ya know this doesn’t make me feel better, right?” He says, but there’s a light, playful tone to his voice.

She smacks him on the chest. “ _My point,_ ” she says, “is that what you do on this team is a shit of a lot more important than whether or not you can spell to Turin’s satisfaction.” 

“Thanks, Dutch,” he says, with only a hint of sarcasm, “but Turin’s _still_ our boss, and you said it yourself, the reports are important.”

“Send it to me,” Dutch says, “I’ll fix it for you.”

“Dutch-“ He starts. He’s about to tell her no. 

“D’av, unless something changed between now and last night when you wrote the damn thing there’s no point making you do it again.”

“Dutch, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask,” Dutch says, “I offered.”

“I-,” D’av frowns, evidently trying to come up with a counter argument. “… Okay.”

 

D’av’s report isn’t even that bad, his grammar’s shaky, and yeah, there’s spelling mistakes, but she can tell what everything says. She’s mostly finished when the door buzzes, she looks up to see Johnny. 

“Hey,” he says, leaning against the door frame. 

“Hey.”

“Sooooo, D’av took off,” Johnny says. 

“He’ll be back,” Dutch says. 

“I know,” Johnny says, “but he left before I could ask him what happened, so….”

“Oh,” Dutch says. She puts the pad aside and sits up to look at him, “I see how it is. You know you’ll never get a straight answer out of your brother, so you’re asking me, instead.”

“Busted!” He grins.

“Johnny, you nosey shit!” She grins back at him. 

“Aw c’mon,” Johnny flashes her his ‘charming’ smile. 

“Fine!” She says. “But only if you tell me something too.”

“Mmm,” Johnny says pushing himself off the wall he crosses the room and flops down onto her bed. “Okay, fair’s fair. You first.”

“I told D’av I’d fix the report for him and send it back to Turin,” she gestures at the pad, which Johnny plucks off the bed and starts skimming it. 

“… And?” Johnny prompts, watching her expectantly. 

“And nothing,” Dutch shrugs, “he said he does take it seriously, he’s just shit at writing reports. But you knew that, didn’t you?”

“Kinda?”

“What am I missing here, Johnny?” Dutch asks, leaning back on the bed and frowning at her partner. 

“I don’t know,” Johnny says, but he’s got a distant, pensive look on his face that makes her think that’s not quite true. 

“Johnny,” she says, giving her partner a _‘don’t bullshit me’_ “there’s history here that I’m missing, but you grew up together.”

Johnny nods. For a while he doesn’t say anything and when he does talk his voice is soft, “D’av didn’t read till he was nearly seven, dad didn’t bother to teach him, _of course_ , by the sounds of it he never really caught up. I didn’t know that, at the time. Found a bunch of our school reports,” he adds as explanation. “What I _did_ know, was that D’av spent year eight in detention. Well, I mean, he probably spent year seven there too, I just didn’t know about it. _Anyway,_ ” Johnny shakes his head, “every time D’av got detention the school’d ring home and you know dad, so we’d get back and dad’d beat the shit out of D’av.” Johnny laughs humorlessly and Dutch is hit by the overwhelming desire to hunt Marris Jaqobis down and strangle him. _Slowly_. 

“Eventually I asked D’av if not doing his homework was _really_ worth it, and D’av told me he got detention for “not doing it properly” whatever he did anyway so he just gave up.” Johnny shrugs. “Well, I’m a good little brother, so of course, I helped.” Johnny’s voice is smooth as ice and fake as hell. 

“ _Johnny_ ,” Dutch says giving him an amused glare. 

“Okay D’av paid me to do his homework,” Johnny says, there’s a “but” coming and Dutch cuts him off before he can get to it. 

“There it is!” She grins affectionately at him. 

“I did try at first though,” Johnny says catching her gaze, his face serious again.

“What happened?”

Johnny shrugs sheepishly, “I wasn’t a very patient tutor. We just ended up yelling at each other. A lot.”

They’re quiet, for a while, Johnny skims the report and Dutch waits. There’s more, he just hasn’t quite figured out how to say it yet.

“Look,” he sets the report aside and turns to fully face her, “I wish I could say all D’av’s shit was on the army screwing with his brain but… He’s never thought very much of himself and dad never missed an opportunity to tell him he was stupid. I mean, dad called us a lot of shit but that one always got to D’av. I guess hearing it from Turin…” 

That she can understand, if Turin had echoed Khlyen’s words at her she would’ve freaked too.  
Johnny trails off and Dutch reaches over and takes his hand, he smiles faintly in response.

“There’s something else though, isn’t there?” There’s too many gears spinning in Johnny’s head for it to just boil down to _D’av had a shitty dad._

“I think so, but I should talk to D’av first…”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be a one shot.... 
> 
> Anyway I realised I focused a lot of Dutch and D'av in the first chapter and as much as I love those two I love Johnny and D'av's relationship too so, have this un-proof second half!

She finds D’av sitting on her bed. He’s stripping one of her guns, his hand’s moving with practiced ease. If she didn’t know him better she’d think he was completely engrossed in the process, but she does know him and the frown on his face isn’t from concentration. 

“Hey, soldier,” she folds her arms and leans against the doorframe. 

“Hey,” D’av straightens, he doesn’t quite smile at her but his face softens and his hands still. 

“That’s my gun,” Dutch says gently, holding out her hand.

“Right,” D’av hastily reassembles the weapon and passes it back to her. She inspects it, briefly, although the action’s more for show than anything. It’s in perfect condition. 

“What’s going on?” 

D’av shifts, his gaze flicking away from her and swallows, “Can we talk?”

“You know you don’t have to ask,” she pushes herself off the door and settles next to him, their shoulder bumping as she sits. 

“Johnny think’s I’m dyslexic,” D’av blurts. It’s not what she was expecting him to say, but she’s not _surprised_. 

She nods, absently, “that makes sense.” It does actually, the more she thinks about it the more sense it makes. _This is what Johnny wouldn’t say_ , she realises. 

“I _know,_ ” D’av whines, he pitches forward and rests his head against his hands. It’s mostly for show. Mostly. 

“So what’s with the dramatics?” 

D’av sighs. For a moment he’s still, mulling it over. When he speaks his voice is slow, careful. “I don’t know how I’m meant to feel about this.”

“I don’t think this comes with a manual, D’av.” She shrugs. “You just feel how you feel and nobody else gets a say in that.”

“Well I don’t _know_ how I feel… I think Johnny thought I’d be pleased, ya know, it’s an answer. And, I _am_ …”

“But?”

“I’m scared too,” D’av says frankly, “I’m scared, and I’m _pissed_.”

She reaches over and squeezes his hand. 

“Someone could’ve _helped_ me! But no one gave enough of a shit to even notice so instead I spent a decade being told I’m stupid!” He breaks off. He’s got that look on his face again; punch or cry. They’re not really in the position to spar this time, so instead she wraps her arms around his neck. 

“I’m sorry, D’av, someone should’ve helped you.” Instead of replying D’av buries his face in her shoulder. After a moment D’av sighs and Dutch lets go of him. 

“I suppose there’s no point being mad about it now,” he laughs humorlessly. 

“Emotions don’t have to have a point, D’avin. And even if they did, I think you’re entitled to be pissed for a few days.” D’av smiles faintly back at her so she takes that as a win. 

“What are you scared of?” 

“It’s stupid,” he ducks his head.

“I doubt that.”

“…I guess I got told so many times it was _my_ fault that I kinda believed it and man that _sucked_ but, at least I had control or at least I could _believe_ I had control. But, if Johnny’s right…” D’av trails off, his gaze wandering round the room and Dutch wonders how much of an _if_ there really is here. 

“If Johnny’s _right_ then… This is forever, I’m _stuck_ with this. There’s no control, no more believing I can turn this off if I tried hard enough. It’s completely and totally out of my hands,” he makes a wide shrugging gesture with his arms. “How am I supposed to be okay with that, Dutch?”

“I don’t know,” she catches D’avin’s hands and squeezes until she see’s his shoulders start to relax. “For what it’s worth, D’av, I’m okay with it.”

D’av sighs, “I guess, this just feels like another way I’ll never be good enough.”

“That’s bullshit!” Dutch snaps, with a little more force than she intends. “You are good enough, D’av, you’ve always been good enough.”

D’av smiles shakily, “Thanks, Dutch.”

She smiles back at him for a moment. “Okay,” she says, letting go of his hands and pulling herself to her feet. “You wanna get pissed?”

“Oh god, yes.”

 

D’av glares at the pad, vainly hoping it’ll start making sense if he stares at it for long enough. So far this strategy isn’t proving particularly effective. It’s late, D’av’s tired and frankly his head hurts. There’s nothing he’d rather be doing less than this, but the realisation that their next warrant came with nine pages of “background info” hasn’t left him much choice. Which is why he’s sitting at the kitchen table at 1am kind of wanting to strangle whoever wrote this warrant when the door slides open. 

“D’av?” Johnny blinks bleary eyed at him. His clothes are rumpled and there’s engine oil streaked across his cheek, “I didn’t think anyone else was still up,” he says. 

D’av leans back in his chair scrubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, me neither.”

“Hey, you want a refill?” Johnny asks, snagging D’av’s empty mug off the table as he heads for the coffee maker. 

“Mmmm,” D’av groans, and then he tips his head back over the chair to grin at Johnny, “love ya!”

“Uh-huh,” Johnny grumbles. D’av leans forwards again resting his head in his hands. There’s silence for a while, except for the gentle clattering of Johnny making a fresh batch of coffee behind him. 

“Hey.” D’av starts, lifting his head to find Johnny standing in front of him with two mugs of coffee and a mildly concerned expression on his face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” D’av straightens and combs his fingers through his hair, trying to look at least _slightly_ awake. “S’just a headache,” he says, and then he scowls, “you gonna give me that coffee or what?”

Johnny hands it to him with a snort and sinks into the nearest chair, “What are you doing?” Johnny asks, which seems slightly redundant because he pulls D’av’s pad towards him and starts skimming through it. 

“Did you not look at this yet?” Johnny asks absently. 

“No, Johnny, _obviously_ not,” D’av spits, he kind of hates himself for snapping at Johnny but he can’t make himself stop. 

“Oooookay,” Johnny says looking distinctly unimpressed. 

“…Sorry.”

“Uh-huh,” Johnny doesn’t sound particularly upset, “you know it’s late, right?”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

Johnny sighs, “I mean you could just read this in the morning.”

D’av huffs, sure, he _could_ but he probably wouldn’t finish it before they have to leave. Plus he doesn’t think it’s going to be any easier in the morning. 

“D’av?” Johnny prompts when he doesn’t reply. 

“What?” D’av snaps, again. “Awww shit,” D’av sighs, “sorry.”

Johnny _still_ doesn’t look angry, just confused and frankly mildly concerned, “what are you so wound up about?”

“Nothing,” D’av rubs a hand over his eyes, “I’m just tired. And this is kind of a pain in the ass.”

Johnny frowns again, he’s got a look on his face like he’s working over a problem, although D’av couldn’t even guess what it is.   
“How long have you been here?” Johnny asks. Now it’s D’av’s turn to be confused. 

“What?” He asks, because, seriously _what?_

“How long-“

“No I heard you,” D’av cuts him off, “but what’s that got to do with _anything?”_

“I forget that you find this stuff hard,” Johnny says, his voice soft. 

D’av grunts, and instead of answering takes a swig of coffee. Johnny to his credit doesn’t seem put off by this. 

“What’s it like for you?” He presses on, “I mean, this stuff took me like twenty minutes to read but, you opened this an hour ago…”

“Good for you,” D’av mutters, just a little bitterly. 

“No!” Johnny screws up his face, “I- I didn’t mean it like that.”

“…Yeah, I know,” D’av sighs. “I don’t know, Johnny, what’s reading like for you?”

“… Point taken.” Johnny pauses, momentarily before continuing, “but I mean, some people get like words moving when they try and read and shit.”

“Huh,” D’av says, “weird.”

“You don’t get that?” Johnny asks. He’s pulled out his phone and started scrolling through something, so D’av figures he’s probably not taking this conversation _super_ seriously. 

“Not really,” D’av pulls his pad back towards him and stares blankly at the wall of text. It swells slightly, the words peaking and troughing around his periphery. He blinks and it settles, for a moment, he’s about to admit defeat and call it a night when it hits him, “son of a _bitch_.”

“What?!” Johnny starts. 

“I-I-“ D’av blinks dumbfounded at the pad, “it’s not… Meant to look like that is it?”

“D’av?” Johnny asks more than a little confused. 

“You know those dumbass optical illusions? Like with the dots where it looks like they’re moving but you know their not?”

“Uh..huh” Johnny clearly thinks D’av’s lost it. 

“Writin’s not supposed to look like that… is it.”

The incredulous look on Johnny’s face deepens. “No.”

There’s a moment of silence. 

“Did you _really_ only just figure that out?!” 

“How was I supposed to know?!” D’av cries. 

Johnny laughs, although in a way that suggests he thinks D’av’s being ridiculous, “So, what you just thought _everyone_ saw words like that and we all just _got on with it_?”

“Well when you put it like _that_ ,” D’av huffs. 

“Seriously, D’av, why didn’t you ever say something?”

D’av sighs, “I had a buddy who got all the way through basic training before he realised he was colour blind.” He laughs fondly at the memory, “Poor guy wanted to be a pilot… Anyway,” D’av shakes his head, “how was he supposed to know what green looked like to everyone else?”

“I-… _Still,_ ” Johnny says, trying and failing to come up with a better argument. 

They lapse into silence for a while, D’av finishes his coffee and Johnny goes back to whatever he was doing on his phone, probably texting Dutch. 

“Alright,” D’av heaves himself out of the chair, “I’m goin’ to bed.”

Johnny nods distractedly.   
“Oh! Hey, wait a sec,” Johnny’s head jerks up and he twists round to face D’av. 

“What?”

“I just realised, I could make that read stuff to you, if you wanted,” Johnny says it like it’s a question.

“Seriously?” Johnny nods and D’av can only blink at him because _really, it was that simple?_

Johnny grins at him, “gimme it tomorrow.”

D’av nods, “thanks, John.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so I kind of tried to talk about one of the less well known dyslexic traits (which, actually is pretty much all but two of them but anyway.) What I'm talking about in particular here is called executive dysfunction which effects a _huge_ range of skills, but particularly in dyslexics our memories and organisational skills are bad.
> 
> Anyway I thought I'd add a brief explanation just so everyone knows what exactly I'm talking about and hey, if you wanna know more about less well known dyslexic traits have a couple of links https://www.dyslexia.com/about-dyslexia/signs-of-dyslexia/common-characteristics-of-adult-dyslexia/ https://www.dyslexia.com/about-dyslexia/signs-of-dyslexia/test-for-dyslexia-37-signs/

Johnny knows D’av’s rather _particular_ about where he keeps his things, so him marching into Johnny’s room with a sour expression and snapping “did you take my pad” at him, isn’t especially surprising. Johnny’d like to blame the army, but he’d been just as anal about it when they were kids. Oh well, at least one of them needs to be organised, and it’s certainly not going to be Johnny. 

“Nope.” Johnny’s stretched out on the bed watching a news stream on his own pad.

“…Are you sure?” D’av says and Johnny lowers the pad to scowl at him. 

“Yes.” 

“Oh…” D’av scans the room, frowning as though he’s hoping someone’s going to leap out of the wardrobe and hand him it. 

With a sigh Johnny pauses the stream and tosses his pad aside, “D’av?” 

D’av shifts his gaze back to Johnny and scowls,“You’re _sure_ you haven’t seen it?”

“I didn’t take your pad!” Ok, yeah sometimes Johnny borrows D’av’s shit without _technically_ asking him first but he always gives it back.

“What?” D’av’s expression clears. “No, I know, just,” He sighs, his shoulders slumping, “I’m not pissed at _you_ I’m just… Pissed.”

“Sorry for being a dick about it,” he says it like it’s a question. 

“Yeah, okay,” Johnny says. He keeps his voice light, the irritation more on principle than anything. “Where’d you look for it anyway? You know it’s probably in your room, right.”

“Oh, wow!” D’av rolls his eye’s, “you’re a genius I _totally_ hadn’t thought of that!”

“Uh-huh,” Johnny would bet real joy it's _somewhere_ in his brothers room. 

“I’m telling, I looked. It’s not there!” D’av snaps. “It might be in the kitchen… Or the cargo bay… Or, maybe the bridge…”

“Oh, yeah,” Johnny nods, “that narrows it down.”

D’av glares at him, and then he shakes his head, “just, tell me if you find it, yeah?”

“Wait,” Johny sighs, before D’av can reach the door, “I’ll help you look.”

 

Almost an hour later Johnny’s leafing through kitchen draws, somewhat halfheartedly. He’d assumed, frankly, that they’d spend ten minutes looking and find it in plain sight. They haven’t. 

There’s a loud clang from beside him as D’av slams one of the cupboard doors shut. 

_“Dude_ ” Johnny says, blocking D’av from abusing another cupboard. 

“I don’t get it” D’av growls “we looked _everywhere_.”

“Yeah, man I don’t know how you managed that,” Johnny laughs.

“It’s not funny!” D’av snaps. 

“It’s a little bit-,” D’av glowers at him and Johnny cuts himself off, “no, never mind. Look we’re docking at Leith tomorrow you can just buy a new one.”

“That is so not the point!”

“Isn’t it?” Johnny asks, a little hesitantly. Pad’s aren’t _cheap_ but it’s not like D’av can’t afford a new one so…

“I’m not a child,” D’av spits. The venom in his voice actually surprises Johnny a little. “I should be able to keep track of my own shit by now, but no because I’m an idiot.”

“It’s just a pad, bud.”

“I shouldn’t’ve lost it in the first place… It’s stupid and irresponsible, if I can’t look after things I shouldn’t have them.” D’av’s voice is tight and angry. 

Johnny recoils, almost involuntarily, “you sound like dad.”

“That’s not…” D’av falters, his eyebrows drawing together, “it’s still _true_.”

“D’av.” There’s a lot of Johnny’s childhood he doesn’t remember, it comes back to him sometimes, in bits and pieces. He had, for example, kind of forgotten how often his brother’d gotten chewed out for loosing shit, although to be fair, they’d gotten chewed out over pretty much everything. By the time Johnny’s memory stops being shaky D’av’s been military, or military adjacent, too long to be disorganised. 

“Dad was an asshole but not _everything_ he said was bullshit,” D’av mutters, although he doesn’t look like even he entirely believes it. 

“D’av.”

“No I mean it! Dad would’ve been a douche about it, but he’d be right, I should know better!”

“Stop it!” Johnny snaps, “look, you’d never treat anyone the way he treated us, right?”

D’av shifts, breaking Johnny’s gaze and rubs the back of his neck, “… I guess.”

“So don’t treat yourself like that.”

“Shit,” D’av breaths, his voice is kind of chocked. “Alright, smartass you win, this is kinda dumb.”

“Hey,” Johnny smacks him lightly on the arm, “you should know by now I’m always right.”

D’av snorts, “you’re an idiot,” he says, and then he sighs, “I must’ve left it at the port.”

Johnny grimaces, they’d docked at Surry Port the night before, and yeah it’s only a couple of hours away but if they turn back now they’ll miss the rendezvous to drop off their latest cargo. Plus, it’s so busy even if they did go back, someone’s probably already stolen it.

“We’ll get you a new one when we’re done,” Johnny tells him.

“Yeah,” D’av sighs, and then pushes himself off the counter he’s leaning on, his shoulders shifting towards the door. “Well, thanks for looking, anyway.”

“Hey,” Johnny spreads his arms, “I’m awesome.”

D’av rolls his eyes, “you’re an idiot,” he calls, ducking towards the doorway.


End file.
